


Pill For Sanity

by BrainlessGenius



Series: Sanity [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: 1k follower angst fest, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Angst, Character Death, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Angst, Death, Deceit | Janus Sanders Angst, Eventual Fluff, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt Logan the most, Hurt/Comfort, Kill Them All, Logic | Logan Sanders Angst, Logic | Logan Sanders Has Feelings, Logic | Logan Sanders is Bad at Feelings, Loneliness, Morality | Patton Sanders Angst, Schizophrenia, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death, brief ones, cause why not, is NOT a joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25442806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrainlessGenius/pseuds/BrainlessGenius
Summary: “Are… are you saying… Remus will be…”“I am afraid if Thomas keeps this up… it won’t just be Remus.” Janus had let go of Logan now, opting to clutch his own capelet as he roamed around the room in a slight frenzy.“But… Logan that has to be bullshit. If we’re all gone, how would the host even function?”“I might not have elaborated clearly enough. The tablets will only affect our physical presence; which would mean Thomas would still have the functions all six of us represent, but our physical selves, per sé, won’t exist any longer.” Janus had stopped pacing now, face covered in a sheen of sweat and his human-half paler than a turnip’s flesh.“Remus!”The scream that originated from the commons was enough to send both facets scrambling out the room. It was honestly a painful sight to behold.~ o ~They weren’t supposed to make themselves known to the host. Logan knew they were gonna regret it someday. When Thomas came home from a doctor’s appointment carrying a bottle of pills, not only Logan regretted it. Everyone did.
Relationships: Anxiety & Creativity & Dark Creativity & Deceit & Logic & Morality & Thomas (Sanders Sides)
Series: Sanity [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876252
Comments: 83
Kudos: 257





	Pill For Sanity

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Schizophrenia is a real and serious disease and should be taken seriously. Taking the appropriate treatment, medication, and the proper dosages for any illness is important! Misdiagnosis and mistreatment of Schizophrenia is not a joke, and please do not use this work to self-diagnose OR self-medicate yourself. Thomas here is Character!Thomas and any events that appear similar to any aspect of Thomas’s life is entirely coincidental.
> 
> A/n: A HUGE thanks to Ellie, AJ, Remy, Ame, Jem and the other peeps from the Logangst Server for beta-reading the fic!! Love ya’ll.

_ “Who are you?” _

~

It was an accident, really. Logic  _ knew  _ they were supposed to stay inside Thomas’s head. He may have been a kid, but he wasn’t stupid; he made sure to keep reminding the others of that fact. It was rule number 1 of being a facet of a host’s personality –  _ Never venture outside of the mindscape.  _ Rule #2 –  _ Never interact with the host _ , was just a dead giveaway.

All six of them came at the same time, and those two rules were the only things their mind contained as they opened their eyes as tiny, fragile, adorable infants. Of course, as the weeks dragged on, each of them gained more and more understanding about their respective roles and whatnot, but the two, and maybe even  _ only  _ rules never dared to leave the confines of their minds.

Skip to a good few years later, young Thomas had developed a habit of talking to himself. All six sides agreed that it wasn’t a very healthy habit to take up on, but Creativity and Morality thought this was a good opportunity for their host to stretch out his imaginative and conversational skills.

So, Logic let it be.

Their large mirror in the living room had become witness to many of Thomas’s intrapersonal conversations; his reflection being the receiving end of his little speeches on an almost daily basis. One fine summer morning however, Thomas’s creative mirror-talking session became a topic of interest when he began conversing with his “other self” about animal noises.

“So, mommy told me yesterday that the dog says ‘arf’, cats go ‘moo’, and those big black and white things that eat grass go ‘meow’! Cool, right?”

Well, no one ever said anything about the kid getting the sounds right.

Five out of the six sides were doubled in amusement at Thomas’s attempts to get his lessons correct, but it seemed that with every try, he just got further and further away from the point.

“Wait… no that’s not right… I think, it’s the birds that say ‘meow’… or was it the big cat with the crazy hair?”

Inside his mind, Logic, having remembered everything their mother taught them down to the last word, was softly yet aggressively muttering to himself every correction he  _ so wished _ he could tell their host, but couldn’t.

“No, they don’t go ‘meow’, cats do, and those are called cows, and they say ‘moo.’ The big cats are lions, Thomas.  _ Lions.  _ And they say ‘roar’.”

“Oh, calm down, Logic! We just learned them yesterday. I don’t even remember what half of the aminals are called!” Morality said as he continued to listen in on Thomas’s own jumbled up language, fiddling with his own cat onesie in the process.

“It’s called _animals_ , Morality, and at this rate, Thomas won’t survive school at all!” Young Logic grumbled as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose

Thomas was seated on the floor now, but still facing his intently listening reflection.

“There’s another animal that’s also black and white... was it a tiger? Oh, wait, that’s orange and black stripes. The penguin is black and white too! Oh, but it isn’t striped. What was it, brain? A zero? A za-ber? Zzzzz…”

“Zebra, Thomas, just say it. Zebra, zebra, zebra…” Logic frantically muttered to himself as he paced the mindscape back and forth; the Creativity twins and Deceit looking at him with equal parts hilarity and worry.

“Come on brain! Think!” Young Thomas placed his palms and forehead gently on the mirror and murmured a long stream of  _ thinkthinkthinkthinkthink _ .

As the embodiment of Thomas’s mind, Logic was positively furious right now. Not only was Thomas forgetting such simple information such as what a  _ zebra  _ is, but he was blaming it on the inability of his own brain to  _ think? _

“Uhm… Logic?” Anxiety said, though it came out as a whisper, to the bespectacled side whose face was getting redder and redder with every ‘think’ that came out of their host’s mouth.

Thomas’s forehead lost contact with the mirror and the toddler cracked a huge smile. “You know what, me? I think it  _ is _ a tiger!”

Logic snapped.

_ “It’s a zebra!” _

The next thing Logic knew, he was looking at his own reflection in the large mirror… with a gaping host right beside him, whose eyes and mouth were both wide open as he stared at this kid who looked exactly like him, wearing a slightly oversized unicorn onesie with a tie around his neck and glasses that were about to slide right off his nose.

He had left the mindscape.

Logic swore it was an accident; and the five other sides that came looking for him shortly afterwards swore it was too.

_ “Who are you?” _

~~~

The kid promised that he wouldn’t tell a single soul about them. As payment, he only had one simple request:

Thomas wanted to still be able to talk with them.

“Uhm… I don’t think that’s… allowed?” Anxiety said as he pulled at the sleeves of his one size too big jacket; gaze locked firmly at his own feet.

“Anxiety is right, Thomas. It was a pleasure to meet you in person, but this is going to be the last time you’ll see us.” Logan crossed his arms and lifted his chin slightly up to give off a slight sense of authority. He found that little tip on a magazine Thomas picked up once but never actually read.

Naturally, the host begged, and begged, and begged. He tried all kinds of reasoning on them.

“I’ll sneak all of you some food.”

“We don’t need food.”

“I’ll let my parents adopt you.”

“We’re imaginary, kid.”

“I can tell them you’re my neighborhood friends?”

“I’m proud of you, but no, Thomas.”

“But I’m bored all the time!”

“No.”

“I don’t have any friends!  _ Please. _ ”

Okay, that last one might have done it for them.

They figured letting Thomas hold up actual conversations with them was better than talking to the mirror everyday anyway, and so they made a deal. Sure, the rules were broken, and they were probably going to regret this in the long run, but their secret was safe, and the host was happy.

Win-win.

They let Thomas name them eventually; because, and they quote,  _ “why do you all not get to have names but I do?”  _ It was a sweet gesture. So, henceforth, Anxiety was named Virgil (‘cause Vigil wasn’t really cutting it), the twins were named Roman and Remus from that story his dad told him (and maybe he kind of forgot the other guy’s name but Roman was pretty close), Deceit was named  ~~ Janice ~~ Janus from yet another story his dad had told him (dad loved mythology), Morality was dubbed Patton in honor of Thomas’s favorite game, Patty-cake, and Logic got Logan… for obvious reasons.

Soon enough the host’s room served as their little playground. Roman absolutely loved redecorating the room into magnificent landscapes and colorful wonderlands. Remus took control sometimes too, but Roman made sure to keep an eye on him whenever he did.

Thomas’s parents would occasionally hear their young son talking to seemingly no one in his quarters; laughing, screaming, and even holding serious conversations despite having the space all to himself. They chalked this up to him having imaginary friends. It was normal for children, after all.

~~~

Through the years, they became more than just friends and playmates for their host. The sides became his confidants, helping Thomas through tricky and confusing stages in his life and figuring out school, moral, financial, career, sexual, romantic, and other life dilemmas together. Lots of arguing and confrontations occurred; on and off as the seasons changed. The six even went all out against each other for quite some time, especially during his teen years, but hey, they smoothed things out eventually.

In their opinion, Thomas did an excellent job keeping their secret safe for the past 20 years. However, in the view-point of the people around Thomas? They were exceptionally  _ worried.  _ Imaginary friends as a child was nothing serious, but over-hearing a 16 year-old talking to at least more than 3 people while he thought he was alone during a family outing was undoubtedly  _ concerning. _

As good companions of a man in his 20s, Joan, Valerie, Talyn, Terrence, and a lot more of Thomas’s friends swore they’ve heard Sanders mention a “Janus,” a “Logan,” and a “Virgil” unconsciously more than once. When asked, Thomas never answered who those people were; but then again, they couldn’t possibly be  _ just people  _ if he keeps accidentally and subconsciously referencing their names between chats.

To be fair, Thomas could have been just a tad bit more careful with his sides. So it didn’t really come as much of a surprise to him when his parents and friends encouraged him to see a psychiatrist. He successfully shrugged them off once, then twice, then another 3 more times. He might have even snarled at his own mother for thinking that he was delirious, and maybe stopped talking to his friends for a few weeks when they drove to a clinic instead of the mall that one time. But when his father booked him an appointment with a doctor out of Thomas’s will and all but screamed at him to go, he felt powerless.

When a doctor’s appointment showed up randomly on Logan’s room calendar scheduled only two days from now, he found it unexpected, but still silently commended Thomas for prioritizing his mental health for once and decided to leave their host be. He thought the psychiatrist should be the first authority to have a say at the matter and that they’d just talk to him  _ after _ this apparently urgent appointment.

Two days later, a scared, confused, nerve-wracked, yet utterly convinced Thomas came home with an initial diagnosis of Schizophrenia, still subjected to more sessions for further confirmation, bearing a bottle of Anquil – 0.25 mg antipsychotic tablets he was instructed to take thrice a day until his next appointment next month.

Logan certainly found it… odd that their host suddenly seemed so terrified of him when he rose up to ask him how the visit went. He found it even more peculiar that Thomas waved it off as  _ “something to not worry about” _ before convincing him he was  _ “fine, thanks Logan.” _

Thomas never summoned them again after that day, or the day after that, or for the days that followed.

~~~

_ Clang! _

_ Crash. _

_ Fwip! _

“Exhausted yet, Your Grace?” Roman exclaimed as he attempted to jab at his brother with his newly polished sword; only for his attack to be swiftly blocked by a slightly rusted but still steel-point sharp morning star.

“Me? Exhausted? You’d have maggots eating away at your carcass by the time I give up!” Remus swung at his opponent’s feet, but Roman was agile enough to jump in avoidance of the spikes threatening to pierce his legs and aimed for an exposed patch at Remus’s face.

A trickle of blood found its way on Remus’s cheek, but the duke paid it back with a smaller, but deeper circular wound on his twin’s shoulder. It didn’t feel like so, but they didn’t stop their little tradition until they’ve been at it for almost an  _ hour. _

With Roman’s boot pinning Remus to the floor, morning star laying abandoned half across the room, and a sword tip hovering dangerously close in between the duke’s eyes, Remus ended their playful battle with his hands in the air and a breathy “Alright, alright, I concede!” leaving his lips. Roman removed his foot from Remus’s chest, helped him up as he caught his breath with a goofy smile and sweat flowing down his face, and willed away their injuries with a quick snap of his fingers.

“Serves you right for cheating the duel that one time.”

“Putting blood-sucking leeches in your boots is not cheating, Ro-ro,” Remus said as he dusted off the random particulates that got caught in his outfit during their fight, “it’s called  _ strategy,  _ and you should learn it sometime.”

“Yeah… I’d say it was still cheating, Rem. Better luck next time, brother.” Roman playfully hit Remus in the arm and, to his surprise, the gesture resulted in the duke stumbling to the point of having to hold on to Roman for support. The prince’s brow furrowed in worry.

“Woah, I know I’m strong but I don’t think I’m  _ that _ strong.” It was a harmless comment, but one laced with obvious concern. Just moments ago Remus was executing graceful parries, dodging blows, and swinging at his faux-foe with the strength and energy of a man who’s had ten shots of espresso, yet here he was now, losing his footing due to a light shove from the same opponent.

“Get over yourself, Princey. I just tripped on a fallen piece of your ego, that’s all.”

“Of course you did, Duke-y. Come on, you probably just need a nap and you’re too ashamed to admit that I tired you out.”

“Oh,  _ please,  _ don’t flatter yourself.” The pair lightly bickered while they returned Remus’s room, which had been turned into a grand ballroom with a good amount of mirrors to give them ample space to duel, back to its original form.

Roman bet Remus that the latter would fall asleep within mere seconds of his head hitting the pillow, and of course the duke bet otherwise. Roman wasn’t sure if he was glad he won on that bet moments later.

Roman thought he’d be his old, eccentric, disgusting, invasive self again in the morning, but he found his brother hadn’t even left his room yet by then. Remus slept for twelve hours that day, far from his usual 6 to 8 hours of half-decent sleep. When he  _ did  _ wake up, something about him was…  _ off _ .

There was no spring in his step, he had a slightly smaller shit-eating grin, there was no pouncing on anyone, or toenails in Logan’s coffee, or feces in Janus’s hat. Patton didn’t need to shove a pair of boxers in his direction to cover up his birthday suit. There was no scaring the shit out of Roman or unwanted semen in Virgil’s Gatorade. Remus was just…  _ not Remus. _

But, it was just a single day, right?

Five days later, and Roman still couldn’t coax Remus to duel with him. He didn’t even have the strength to lift up his weapon. The duke was always the palest out of all of them, but they didn’t think he could possibly get even  _ paler.  _ His eyes were sunken, his cheekbones had started to jut out, and his laugh had become good acquaintances with a cough. He did still try to keep up his usual act, but it was getting increasingly harder every day.

Janus started to worry immensely about his friend. He grabbed Logan by the wrist and coerced the side to rise up with him to have a  _ much needed  _ talk with the host. Logan could still vividly remember the terror in Thomas’s eyes when he saw him last, yet another look at Remus’s weak form was enough for him to give Janus a nod and pop up in the kitchen, where Thomas was currently cooking a meal (probably a recipe from YouTube, they thought). The scene made Logan look prouder than a mother during her son’s graduation, but that wasn’t important right now.

“Thomas?” The host continued to dice an entire carrot, not hearing a single word.

“Thomas, don’t play deaf.” He was chopping onions now; humming a little tune as he remained oblivious to the two’s presence.

Janus tried waving a gloved hand directly in front of the host. He tried snapping his fingers, shouting, whispering at his ear, and even placing his thumb on the cutting board, only for Thomas to completely slice through it without batting an eye or leaving a single mark on Deceit’s skin.

“Logan… wh-why can’t he see or hear us?” Janus asked as he clutched his hand, still feeling the phantom sensation of steel passing through his flesh.

“I… have yet to conduct research on that, Janus.”

“This has never happened before.” The scaled aspect had his eyes still trained on the host’s backside, but Logan was already out of the kitchen and scanning the living room; eyes darting around looking for… something,  _ anything. _

“I may have a theory, Janus. The most ideal outcome would be for me to prove my hunches wrong,” Logan stopped as his gaze fell on a singular, semi-transparent, orange bottle sitting on top of the dining table. He picked it up, read the labels, then handed the object over to Janus as color drained from the latter’s face, “but I fear I may be correct.”

**_Benperidol_ **

**_Anquil_ **

**_Antipsychotic tablets_ **

Janus dropped the bottle back onto the table and swiftly and shakily pulled Logan back into the mindscape with him only to practically shove him inside the closest room, which just happened to be Deceit’s.

“Alright nerd, tell me what the hell this means, exactly.  _ Now, _ ” Janus sneered as he towered over Logan with his hand fisted in his shirt.

“Janus, please calm yourself as I would need you to be in optimal emotional and intellectual equilibrium before I relay specific informati--“

“Logan, tell me  **_NOW._ ** ” Janus was just inches away from the logical side’s face, and at this proximity, the taller’s breaths had already begun fogging up his glasses. No use in delaying info any further, he supposed.

“Putting into consideration Thomas’s abrupt schedule for a psychiatrist, his attitude towards us afterwards, Remus’s behavioral changes after the appointment, and the bottle of Benperidol we just found atop the dining table, I’d say the doctor diagnosed him with a mental illness due to misunderstanding us as ‘ _ hallucinations _ ’ and gave him medicine to ‘ _ cure _ ’ him of us.” The fist buried in the logical side’s shirt trembled, just as much as Deceit’s half-reptilian lips did.

“Are… are you saying… Remus will be…”

“I am afraid if Thomas keeps this up… it won’t  _ just  _ be Remus.” Janus had let go of Logan now, opting to clutch his own capelet as he roamed around the room in a slight frenzy.

“But… Logan that  _ has  _ to be bullshit. If we’re all gone, how would the host even function?”

“I might not have elaborated clearly enough. The tablets will only affect our physical presence; which would mean Thomas would still have the functions all six of us represent, but our physical selves, per sé, won’t exist any longer.” Janus had stopped pacing now, face covered in a sheen of sweat and his human-half paler than a turnip’s flesh.

_ “Remus!” _

The scream that originated from the commons was enough to send both facets scrambling out the room. It was honestly a painful sight to behold.

Virgil and Patton were positioned almost side by side, Pat standing with his hands on his mouth, eyes wide from fear and Virgil kneeling on one knee, mouth ajar, form quivering as he hovered cautiously near Roman. The royal was seated on the floor, legs splayed at an odd angle that was sure to leave him uncomfortable later on; his back against Janus and Logan who were still standing in disbelief from the hallway. The pair could hear whispers though, and they traced the origins back to the figure the prince was holding close to his chest, whose own legs stretched out across Roman and down onto the ground, seemingly lifeless.

“Remus?” was the only word Janus could manage to spit out as he looked at Remus’s death-stricken features peep from Roman’s shoulder. It took about 5 seconds, but eventually the duke mustered the brightest smile he could; even though it looked like it hurt to just twitch his lips.

“Hey Jan-jan,“ Remus forced out a painful, dry cough before gasping for breath once again and continuing his words, “looks like I won’t live long enough to see if you have more than six arms and one dick, after all… hehe…he…” The small number of words Remus let out was already too much, and he was desperate for air again almost instantly.

“You’d have to stick around if you still want to find out,” Janus said as he slowly approached the dying duke whose grip around his own brother’s shoulders would’ve left a mark if only he still had even just an ounce of strength left.

“Bummer. I think… Ro-ro here would be… willing to find that… out on my behalf, hmm?” Remus weakly uttered between deep, shuddering breaths; the phantom of a laugh hiding behind pained eyes.

“Remus,  _ please,  _ I- I don’t know what’s happening, tell me you’re going to be alright,  _ please. _ ”

The long stretch of silence before Remus could answer Roman was one of the most painful seconds they’ve experienced.

“Ro? Jan? Tell Thomas… he can finally get some… sleep.”

“ _ Remus n- _ **_wait!_ ** ”

His dark circled eyes had just closed when he disappeared too suddenly from Roman’s arms. The loud sobs that racked the royal’s body as he cried into the teary-eyed, father figure’s arms were enough to pierce through everyone’s hearts and spill the liquid their tear ducts contained.

If Logan felt even the slightest pang in his chest as he realized no one else would tolerate his unconventional experiments other than Remus, he skillfully willed it away.

Janus went straight for his room, locked the doorknob, shuddered, and allowed himself to shed hot, ugly tears as he slid down against the wall. He didn’t dare open the door for anyone.

~~~

An explanation was due, of course.

Logan hated that he had to be the one to inform the others of their current predicament and its eerie implications; and he hated it even more that the three people he had to share his devastating discovery with just had to be the three most emotionally-compromised sides Thomas has.

They ended up terrified, bawling, and comforting one another for another 2 hours, just when Logan thought they had already milked their eyes dry from their terrible loss.

“Are you sure there isn’t  _ anything  _ we could do, Lo?”

“If Thomas could only see us, Patton; but unfortunately the medicine had already taken effect, and Thomas is still far from the one-month mark.”

Logan could tell how spitefully Roman was looking at him as of the moment, but he reminded himself that the embodiment of logic worked best when an objective approach was used to oversee every situation. Maybe it would be better for the trio if he evacuated the commons to allow them their moments of grief.

He passed the hallway, adamant on getting into his room to finally finish off some work, but stopped as he passed by a certain yellow door. It wouldn’t hurt to try and knock for the 5 th time that day, would it?

“Janus?” Logan called out as he rapped on the door with 3 simple knocks.

Silence.

The rest of the sides, knowing how much Remus’s…  _ disappearance _ must have affected Janus, tried to get him to open his door a few more times that day, but he never budged. Not even a single sound left that room.

After he had been cooped up in there for a whole 2 days, they decided maybe it was best they left him alone to grieve the loss of his closest companion, his “partner in crime”, if you will. He never did get a chance at a proper goodbye, after all.

Patton made sure to leave the deceitful side a plate of food by the door at least once every day. Sometimes the dish made it in, sometimes it didn’t. They made it a habit to knock on the structure and talk to him from the other side of it whenever they had a chance; if only to let him know that the rest of their little family was still alive and well. He never really answered back.

When that room stayed closed off to all of them for another 2 weeks, without even the smallest hint of life from within, Virgil had had enough.

“Janus!” Virgil yelled as he pounded on the mockingly bright, yellow door which only replied in silence.

“You can’t lock yourself in there forever!” The unending boom of hands against wood had gotten the others’ attention, and just seconds later the anxious side was joined by Roman, Patton, and Logan in front of the door.

“Dee! Open up!”

**_Thud._ **

Virgil’s hand froze, floating just centimeters from the structure. That sound was the only indication they’ve had of a  _ living person  _ inside, but the nature of the noise meant that it certainly was no time to celebrate just yet.

“Jan?!” They were expecting another sign from the reptilian aspect, but the thickness of nothing could almost wrap its way around their throats.

“Jan-  _ fuck it!  _ We’re coming in now!” Roman backed away a bit to build up his strength and the other three moved to get out of his way. He silently counted to three then  _ charged  _ at the door with his entire left side. The hinges came off instantly upon the structure’s contact with the prince.

Varying forms of exclamation were heard from the group as they took in the scene before them. There, lying on the floor face down, limbs sprawled across the tiles, hat strewn under the bed, and capelet a mess on his shoulders was Janus. An  _ unmoving  _ Janus.

Virgil was quick to get to the unconscious aspect’s side, cautiously scooping him up in his arms and brushing his fringe away from his half-scaled face with shaking fingers.

“Hey, Deceit,“ Virgil frantically said as he lightly slapped the other’s cheek a few times, “wake up. Janus,  _ wake up. _ ”

Virgil’s eyes widened when Janus stirred; Anxiety’s hands gripping the fabric of his capelet maybe a little too tight. His heart rate shot up when Jan finally opened his eyes.

“Hng… Vi-Virgil?” Janus’s eyelids were only lifted halfway and his voice turned out hoarse and dry. “Who let you in?”

Virgil softly laughed; more air coming out of his mouth than there was laughter. He could only hope that was enough to hide the tremors that were travelling up his form.

“Roman did. Sorry ‘bout the door.” Virgil loosened his grip on Deceit as he tried to lift his head up and eye the now exposed doorway, most likely due to the door coming off completely from its hinges. Janus lay his head back down with an exhausted sigh escaping his hint of a smile.

“You all really  _ don’t  _ care, do you?”

“You’re damn right we do, idiot.” The smile on his human half grew wider, but it was short-lived. Janus’s gloved hands gripped at Virgil’s hoodie as his form flickered and weakened. Even in his pathetic state, Janus could still feel how badly the anxious side was trembling and hear how uneven his breaths were.

“Listen, Janus. I… I’m  _ really  _ sorry I left you and Remus years ago. It’s just… Thomas needed to  _ listen  _ but I couldn’t… and if I didn’t he’d – but I  _ swear _ I didn’t want to, I just –  _ oh god,  _ I’m  _ so sorry – _ “

“Take off my glove.”

“W-what?”

“Take it off.” With Janus just barely whispering and Virgil visibly confused, the latter obliged and began gingerly taking off the glove from the hand that wasn’t tightly clutching his jacket. With the little strength he had, he unsteadily raised up his bare hand, and spoke to the best of his ability.

“You… have no reason to be sorry. If it makes you feel better, I’ve  _ always  _ forgiven you.” Janus could feel Virgil holding on to him even tighter as he spotted a few tears flow down his cheek.

“And Virgil?”

“Yeah, Jan?”

“… none of that ever made me care any less.” The hand dropped back down to his stomach and his teeth gritted as his form fluctuated; sending waves of pain travelling throughout him.

“Dee, hey, come on _. _ ” Janus focused on Virgil’s gasping breaths, the softness of his hoodie, the tear that fell on his scales, and the shaking of his arms, as he mustered up the last of his energy to whisper one last thing.

“Keep Thomas safe, will you?” Virgil couldn’t stop himself from completely sobbing on Janus’s bedroom floor anymore. He wanted to delay his reply, if that would mean a few more seconds with Jan, but he knew that wasn’t how things were going to work.

“I promise,” he whispered, mirroring Janus’s gesture from before by putting up his right hand.

Janus was gone with a smile.

None of them slept that night.

~~~

Logan almost didn’t even notice that it was once again time to flip his calendar. A month had passed. It was a tense moment in the mindscape as they awaited what Thomas’s second visit to the psychiatrist would entail; and so news of the host’s diagnosis being confirmed and being instructed to continue his meds, although expected, still felt like a nuclear bomb being dropped in the scape.

If they could only tell Thomas they  _ weren’t  _ hallucinations.

Since then, all four of them spent more time in the commons than they did in their rooms. No one really acknowledged it out loud, but the past few weeks had taken a huge toll on them; emotionally mostly. Seeing each other present, safe, and still…  _ there  _ sent waves of comfort through their beings; but it also meant tendrils of fear constantly restricting their airflow the very second one of them was out of their line of sight.

Both Roman and Logan were still trying though. Occasionally, one or both of them would rise up, appearing before Thomas wherever he was in his home. Logan counted exactly twenty-eight times of him waving in front of Thomas, and he estimated Roman’s attempts were at thirty-one, plus that one time Roman tried to pierce a sword through the host’s torso. Luckily, Logan was quick enough to pull the frustrated prince back in the mindscape. Thomas wouldn’t have felt it. He just didn’t want Roman getting used to anonymously inflicting phantom injuries on the poor man.

So far, none of them have been showing symptoms of fading (as they liked to call it now). They’ve stopped counting the days and weeks but it seemed like it’d been quite a long time since they’ve witnessed something unusual. It was always the same -- Logan doing his work, Roman writing up ideas, Patton sorting out the host’s feelings, and Virgil giving Thomas his daily (healthy) doses of anxiety. The anxious persona had even dubbed the edge of the sofa as “his territory” if they were really adamant on remaining in the commons for the majority of the day.

When Virgil fell asleep on the couch one time in the middle of reading a novel, a hobby he had grown a liking to quite recently, Patton found it honestly endearing. He looked like a little kitten, he thought, with his hood up, jacket paw hand landing on his lap still loosely clutching the book, forehead creased, head lolling… to the side…

Wait.

“Roman?” Patton lightly pulled on the fanciful aspect’s sash, trying to interrupt his scribbling from where they sat side by side across Logan in the dining area.

“Hmm? What is it, padre?” Roman was still looking at his notebook, pen still moving along the dotted lines.

“Does… does Virgil usually fall asleep on the couch?” Patton’s hand hadn’t let go of the sash.

“Oh, yeah, like,  _ all the time,  _ Pat.” Roman fondly rolled his eyes, hand still controlling the writing apparatus.

“No, I mean, does he ever fall asleep like,“ he brought Roman’s attention towards the jacket-clad aspect on the couch, “that?”

The second Roman’s eyes landed on Virgil and the book that had now fallen to the ground, he rapidly abandoned his writing and sat beside him on the couch in a few quick strides.

“Virgil?” He moved Anxiety’s head from where it leaned uncomfortably against the end of the sofa and slowly rested the side’s head against his shoulder instead. He began to lightly shake him awake.

“This is no place  _ and  _ time for a nap, you sleep-deprived raccoon.” Roman chuckled nervously as he fought the niggling fear that was crawling its way up his throat.

Patton tapped Virgil’s shoulder lightly as he tried to wake him too. “Anx… at least get into a more comfortable position first?” Logan unconsciously fiddled with his tie when Virgil still didn’t stir.

Roman was shaking Virgil a bit more rigorously now, still making sure the side remained leaning against him.

“This isn’t funny anymore, Purp Man,” Roman said a fraction more loudly, hoping it would make those eyes open.

“Virge?”

“Virgil!”

“Anxiety!!”

He finally stirred after a good ten seconds straight of just calling out his name. Logan didn’t notice himself releasing a shaky breath. Virgil coughed in sync with him opening his eyes, pupils moving to look at Logan and Patton standing in front of him, both with different degrees of worry and terror etched into their features, then to Roman’s trembling lips and tightly knotted brows. He hadn’t the strength to lift his head off the prince’s shoulder.

“I… fell asleep?”

“Yeah. You gave us quite the scare, kiddo.” It was a pathetic attempt at small talk, but all of them knew what had happened was more than just a sleepy spell. They were all just too afraid to admit it.

“How are you,“ Logan paused to gulp down a ball of air that was somehow lodged in his throat, “how are you feeling, Virgil?” He tried his best to maintain his composure, but Logan was beginning to pick out foreign, uncomfortable sensations in his chest as he looked at Anxiety’s weakening form.

Virgil took a long, deep, ragged breath before answering.

“I’m… tired.” Virgil yawned, and Patton would have cooed over him if not for their current situation.

“I’m  _ really tired,  _ guys. Honestly, have been… for… days… now.” Virgil’s eyes involuntarily slipped closed, and his words were already starting to trail off. Roman made a point to not make it obvious when a tear escaped his eye. Patton’s entire form was trembling from the strain of silencing his cries, and Logan stood frozen in his spot, trying to comprehend what he was experiencing at the moment.

“You can,“ Roman covered his mouth as a sob made it past his lips, “you can rest now, Virgil. It’s alright.”

Patton hadn’t noticed when he had inched closer to Logan, but luckily, the logical side didn’t notice it as well. Virgil’s form flickered again, and pain crossed his face for a second, before it returned to its semi-relaxed state, eyes still closed, and head only being supported by Roman’s shoulder and hand.

They barely heard him mutter a soft  _ “I love you guys”  _ before the prince felt the other’s entire weight drop on him. He managed to squeeze in one last tight hug, and then he was hugging the air in the blink of an eye.

As Logan stared at the empty space beside a wailing Roman, with Patton’s tear-stained face buried in the crook of Logic’s neck, hugging him so tightly he felt like his ribs could fracture, Logan allowed himself to shed a single tear.

Even if inside, it felt like he was drowning in them.

~~~

_ “Look at me, Thomas!”  _ The tip of Logan’s nose was probably just a single centimeter away from their host, who was seated on his living room re-watching the second book of Avatar: The Last Airbender.

Logan had been having trouble regarding emotions these past few days. Patton told him it was absolutely normal to have them, especially when the most recent events have been, well, devastating for them. Roman told him this is what he got for pretending to be a stoic, emotionless human when everything that had been happening recently called for him to be _anything_ but that _._

The heaviness in his chest and eyes and that unexplainable invisible object lodged in his throat (Logan examined it, there was nothing obstructing his pharynx or esophagus) continued to fester for days, and for once he had no clue how to approach such a problem. Roman and Patton told him the appropriate solution would be having an outlet, like how Patton baked cookies to comfort himself with the aroma of a fresh batch and how Roman practiced his swordsmanship (Logan doubted that would do him any better than harm).

So, that’s how he ended up out of the mindscape, in the living room, shouting at a host who was staring straight through him.

_ “Why can’t you see me?! Look at me!”  _ He backed away a good few feet from Thomas now. He stood directly in front of the television, hoping if he expended enough energy, concentrated well enough, and maybe spread himself wide enough to cover a huge portion of the appliance, maybe the host might notice him.

_ “Thomas Sanders, listen to your logical aspect, PLEASE!”  _ He heaved with each breath, hands coming up to pull at his own hair as the host continued to watch with a tauntingly calm and content look on his face.

_ “Stop doing this! Listen to me!”  _ He could feel the burning in his throat almost thaw out the object lodged in it, but with a still full chest, he continued to scream through the pain of his vocal cords.

_ “Look at me Thomas! LOOK AT ME!” _

Suddenly, identical eyes met, Logan’s feet were stuck in its place, and Thomas’s hand clutching the remote grew unsteady with tremors.

“Thomas?” Logan whispered, still not quite sure if Thomas was actually staring at him.

As if on cue, the host’s eyes snapped shut, his hands shot up to cover his ears, and Logan could almost make out the stream of words he was mumbling to himself as he fidgeted on the couch.

_ No no no no no it’s not real remember what Dr. Wring said ignore him ignore him no no nonosTOP _

“Thomas, calm down please, you have to listen to m-“

_ “NO!”  _ His eyes were wide open again, and the hands now moved from his ears to his phone in less than a second as his fingers dialled a number.

“Thomas, wait, please consider listening to me rationally. Don’t push through with that call-“

Whatever Logan had to say disintegrated into mere air being released from his mouth. The ringing stopped. He didn’t pick up. Thomas didn’t dare look him in the eye as he reached for the bottle of pills that were situated on the coffee table in between them in sheer panic.

“Thomas, what are you doing?” Logan reached out his hands in front of him, still maintaining a good distance from the host as he watched him spill 2 pills onto his hand, trembling as if it were deep into December. “Thomas stop, no,  _ wait— _ “

The eyes were back shut as he downed the medicine without even a drop of water to aid him.

Logan never remembered being pushed down into the mindscape being so… forced and  _ painful  _ before.

He landed hard on the commons floor; the voices of Aang, Katara, and Thomas still ringing in his mind. Both Roman and Patton were there to help him back up instantly. He told them what had happened, and the prince instantly re-attempted to pop up in Thomas’s living room. However, he failed.

He jumped again and again; and each time it felt like he was hitting the water’s surface, only it didn’t break. They tried every day; hoping they might have another shot at being seen like Logan had, even if just for a second, but they never succeeded.

If dread was a vulture, he’d have easily picked them all apart by now, down to the very last bone.

Retreating to their rooms every night became the beginning of a whole new routine called “tossing and turning” for each of them, and waking up every morning to see their presences felt like a stone being pulled out of their hearts. There were about a million stones in their hearts though, so it didn’t feel like it made a difference.

Every day they asked each other how they felt, how they were fairing, if they feel anything unusual, or wrong; and every day they each answered the same thing: “I’m okay.”

Patton’s cookies filled about 5 cookie jars now; each container being a manifestation of just how terrified he was. Logan probably wasn’t even getting any proper work done anymore, but the feeling of the laptop keyboard on his fingers and the machine’s heat on his lap gave him an odd sense of false comfort. Roman had trashed just about every room in the mindscape by now. He charged at the parts of the walls where the rooms of the others had once been. He thought they looked awfully plain just staring at him with its ridiculous, white,  _ blankness.  _ He already destroyed the kitchen, the library, the ceiling, his own room, and yes, even the commons. He made sure to put it back to its original state afterwards, of course. He was no heathen.

The embodiments of logic and morality could only stare at the prince with pity and empathy as he swung his sword around the dining area for the third time this week. They shut out the angry and sorrowful cries that crawled out of his throat as he beat down the table, broke all the plates, and teared through the chairs.

They counted about ten minutes before Roman finally struck the ground with his katana as his final attack. The royal took in large, deep, and quick breaths as he gripped the hilt of his sword tight; kneeling while keeping almost a fourth of the blade wedged in the ground. Roman moved his head to look at the other two seated by the sofa and tried to ignore the fact that there was still an empty space beside them that would’ve easily been filled in by now by-  _ no. We are not thinking about him, or  _ **_them_ ** _. _

He began to stand; planting one foot on the ground, pushing himself up, hands still on the sword, sword still on the ground, then anchoring the other foot down as well until he was fully upright. The second he did though, an indescribable pain shot through his head and travelled down his whole body. He gritted out a groan as his knees buckled from the sensation, eyes snapping shut  _ tight. _

The two practically ran to get to him before his head could hit the floor, and together they moved him to the common area, away from his sword still sticking out from the cold floor.

Roman’s form spasmed and faded in and out rapidly, hands moving to clutch at Patton’s cardigan as he howled in immense pain.

“Roman… you said you were  _ fine,  _ Ro!” Patton screamed as he rested his fingers through the other’s sweat-soaked hair.

“I- I thought I was too, Pat-“ His legs thrashed and his throat grew hoarse as more searing pain flashed through his physique.

Patton thought his tear ducts would be empty by now, yet here he was, cradling a suffering prince as his wet face turned to face Logan.

“Why is he in so much pain, Logan? Why is this happening? Why so quickly?! He was fine just seconds ago, Lo!  **_Why?!_ ** ”

Logan’s mouth opened and closed while his mind raced through a billion thoughts and his eyes fixed on Roman’s quickly fading form below him.

“I… I d-don’t… know.”

For the first time in who knows how long, he just felt… clueless. It was such a horrible feeling, he thought.

“Pat? It…  _ it hurts _ .” The fanciful side was gasping for breath now, and his hands couldn’t find a single spot to rest on.

“We know, Roman. We’re so sorry. It’ll be all over soon, alright?” Patton’s heart felt like it was breaking into a million tiny pieces, but he still put on the gentlest smile and placed his warm hand on Roman’s impossibly cold cheek. Roman grew calmer over time, but his torture was still obvious as he tried to force out a few more words from his searing throat.

“I can’t wait to see the others again, specs.” Roman’s voice was barely audible now, and he had gone unnervingly still; yet his face still held so much toil and anguish and his hands were still impossibly tight around Patton’s cardigan.

Logan wasn’t dumb. He knew there was no afterlife for figments of one’s mind; but for Roman, maybe he could spare to not blurt out facts tonight as an exception. He was trembling like a hummingbird’s wings, and wetness was threatening to overflow from his ducts, but he managed to keep his eyes dry as he shakily replied to his… friend.

“Say hi to them for me, Roman.”

He thought of it as his own homage to the Lord of the Lies himself. Just this once.

“I will, nerd.“ He paused to steady his weakening voice. “See you.” His eyes slipped close, his hand fell, and he breathed one last breath, before he faded from Morality’s arms.

Only then did Logan allow the weight in his chest and the flood in his eyes to burst; both aspects scrambling for breath as they witnessed yet another side vanish from existence in front of their very own eyes. Logan had not the slightest idea sorrow would bring about this much of a pinch within his ribcage, but Patton made sure to reassure him he wasn’t alone on this one.

They held onto each other for hours, ‘till they passed out with heavy bodies, red eyes, aching lungs, and broken hearts.

They couldn’t let go.

~~~

Eventually, the pair figured out that on that day Thomas saw Logan, Dr. Wring’s phone was unreachable, and out of sheer panic and pure fear from seeing one his “hallucinations” again, their host took an extra pill every day for about a week. Sanders argued how he was still within the appropriate dosage for adults, but nonetheless, the doctor told Thomas off about it upon finding out, and brought him back down to his original thrice a day.

Given how mortified Thomas became as he narrated his encounter to Dr. Wring, and how furiously the psych scribbled at his notes, it looked like he wasn’t going to stop his medication any time soon.

Logan knew he wasn’t technically at fault for Roman’s fading, or for the drastic difference in pain levels, or the intensity, but he couldn’t shake the intrusive voice in his mind telling him that if he hadn’t provoked Thomas that much that day, if he hadn’t stared him in the eye, maybe Roman would still be here.

_ You’re at fault, Logan. _

Maybe there was life after figurative death after all, and Remus just decided to stop by and pay him a mental visit.

There were only two doors in the hallway now, both just different shades of blue, but since the last disappearance, the two rooms were rarely opened. The pair practically lived in the common area now, with Logan’s files, notebooks and laptop cluttering the table and floor and Patton’s nostalgic memoirs, notes on moral philosophies, and his catalogue of human emotions taking up space in the dining area.

Since childhood, Logic and Morality never really got along well. Patton never comprehended half of the words that came out of Logan’s mind, and Logan never understood half of the emotions that came emanating out of Patton. One was just too, bubbly, bouncy, expressive, for the other’s tastes and the other was simply too reserved, serious, and calculated. They had gone head to head with each other regarding Thomas’s decisions in life maybe one too many times.

Yet here they were now, both unable to bear even just a single second with the other out of their sight. They weren’t quite sure anymore whether it was the thought of their own self, or the thought of the other fading that scared them more. Patton liked to make fun of how boring it would be without anyone to tell his dad jokes to, and Logan mentioned how unfortunate it would be if all his knowledge would be wasted talking to thin air. Deep inside, they were both simply frightened of the thought of being alone. No one said it aloud though. Never.

The mindscape grew quiet. And for the first few days not a single joke came out of Patton and not a single bit of trivia came out of Logan. But when Patton saw a button from one of Janus’s capelets under the couch that one time he decided to clean to take his mind off things, he broke down again, and Logan found himself running towards the moral side and locking him in a tight embrace as he whispered reassurances and comfort he never thought he knew before. It was the first time they slept side by side on the couch that night; and it was the first full rest they had in a while. The facts and the witty quips came back after that.

Every day became a high-tension game show called _ “Who was Going to Show Symptoms First?”  _ and if they were given a choice, neither of them wanted the other to win. They wanted out. So when Patton slept in and woke up a little later than usual, hands feeling a bit cold where it rested somewhere on Logan’s torso, the logical side felt a single thread of dread knot itself in his throat. It was probably nothing.

The next day, it took a bit of effort to stand in the morning, but Patton shrugged it off with a smile. The following afternoon Patton decided to bake again, but Logan had to help him with kneading the dough. A few days later he needed assistance to walk; having to lean heavily on Logan if he wanted to get to another place. Soon, just organizing his trinkets was enough for him to need to catch his breath. Soon enough Patton couldn’t even walk, and then he couldn’t even stand without relying almost completely on Logan for help.

He was always cold. He wore the cardigan instead of it just being tied around his shoulders now. When it wasn’t sufficient, Logan grabbed Patton’s cat onesie and helped him put it on. Sometimes a fourth layer in the form of a thick blanket was needed.

Logan knew there was no getting back from this at that point, but was it honestly wrong to hope and wish that a day might still come where the smell of Patton’s half-decent baked goods was going to wake him up again in the morning? Was it so bad that he was waiting for that moment where Patton would punch him in the arm as he delivered his punchline? Was it even normal that a grown, logical man as himself shook and cried as his moral counterpart dozed off with uneven breaths next to him on the couch? Could you blame him for being so scared?

Two weeks later, or had it been past that? Patton couldn’t even sit up anymore. They had no need for food, but every once in a while Logan would make Pat a mug of hot cocoa and let him sip it through a straw. Maybe it would help warm his core and soothe his discomforts even by the smallest fraction.

Logan was never one for physical affections, yet here he was, snuggled up under a thermal blanket, tie and glasses laid on the table alongside another pair of specs, with the last side he ever thought he’d end up beside with for the twelfth night in a row. Call him selfish, but Logan was merely trying to absorb as much physical contact as he can before he was undoubtedly left to his own accords for another few weeks in the dim mindscape.

The mug of hot chocolate was half-empty by now, but Patton didn’t seem to want anymore anyway.

“Are you sure you don’t want some, Lo-lo? You can have the rest.” If the mindscape wasn’t so eerily quiet, Logan probably wouldn’t even have heard Patton speak.

“I am not one for sugary, sweet, liquids; but thank you Patton.”

Logan’s whole form was fully faced towards the ceiling, with one hand on his stomach, over the blanket, and the other being almost fully under Patton, who was curled up tight against his side, both arms and almost his whole front in full contact with the logical aspect to gather up as much body heat as possible, and head resting against his chest.

“I really miss baking, Logan. If I could get up even for just one minute, I’d head straight for the kitchen and whip us up some blueberry muffins.” Just the mere mention of the word “muffins” conjured up the memory of the scent of the sweet confectionery hitting his nostrils. He hadn’t had a whiff of such a scent in so long.

“I know, Patton. I have to say, even though I’m not entirely fond of your baked goods, your muffins were distinctly more uhm… favored by my taste buds.” Logan felt a shiver run through Patton and he instinctively ran his hand up and down the other’s fully covered arm to provide heat.

“Really? Why’d you like the muffins then?”

“For one, they’re a healthier option than cookies. I personally prefer your banana muffins over your chocolate ones due to that reason alone. Also, I found that the adequate sweetness of muffins complemented the strong, bitter taste of my coffee the best among your pastries—“

Logan stopped his dialogue when he saw Patton staring at his own face with tired eyes and the best smile he could muster with his fatigued facial muscles.

“Is there… is there something on my face?” Morality laughed. Logan shut up about it, but he awfully missed that laugh.

“Your face is fine, Lo. It’s just that, you look so passionate and happy when you explain things. I can feel it, you know?” If it wasn’t so dark, Pat would’ve probably seen the blush creeping up on Logan’s cheeks.

“Oh.”

“I never understood a single word you said, but I always loved it when you rambled about your discoveries and experiments.”

“Y-you did?”

“Mhmm. I don’t usually sense a lot of emotion coming off of you, but when you’re explaining facts, I can just feel so much…  _ happiness. _ ”

He’ll be honest. Logan didn’t know what he was supposed to be feeling right now.

“I know I don’t appear very fond of your dad jokes and your unending positive energy, but I must give you credit for them. Those punchlines need wits and precise timing, and I truly,  _ truly  _ commend your deep and detailed understanding of human emotion.”

He heard a cough. A short one, but it sounded painful nonetheless.

“Thanks, Lo-lo.”

There was a long stretch of silence between them. For a second they focused on the soft sounds of their breathing and relished in the sensation of another being there by their side, until Patton’s impossibly soft voice cut through it again.

“Tell me about the stars, Logan.” The simple request took the logical facet by surprise. No one’s asked him to relay facts outright before; but he was more than happy to oblige.

“Oh, uhm. What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“Well, maybe we can start with how stars are born. Stars start off as large clouds of gas and matter called Stellar Nebulas. These nebulas will condense together and form into either one of two ways – a massive star, or an average star…”

He tried to remember every single thing he knew about stars. The sun, their life cycles, their brightness, the “twinkling,” the colors, temperatures, the smallest stars, the biggest ones,  _ everything.  _ He talked and talked for hours, uncaring for how late into the night it was or how dry his throat was getting. Patton wanted to know everything about the stars and by Archimedes’s crown he was getting exactly that.

He only stopped when he caught a glimpse of Patton’s already closed eyes. He put a finger in front of the side’s nose and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt a small puff of air hit his digit. He admitted he was quite tired as well. He held the moral side close to him tight, tried his best to memorize the feeling of a physical body in his arms, and allowed his own eyes to slip shut. They survived another day.

Logan learned how the word “terror” felt like the very next morning, when he woke up to see his arm empty, with the space in the blanket beside disgustingly unfilled out. He learned the feel of the word “panic” when he scoured every nook and cranny of the mindscape to find no one. And he learned the feeling of “pain” when he saw a single, indigo door in the hallway where there used to be six.

He thought he already knew how it felt to be alone, but now he realized this,  _ this,  _ is what “alone” truly felt like.

_ It was _ **_unbearable_ ** _. _

~~~

Logan didn’t know which hurt more – the aching of his lungs and the tiredness in his muscles, or the lack of noise, people, scents, lights, laughter, action,  _ everything  _ in the mindscape.

He broke down the very first time just 2 days after Patton disappeared. He was just cleaning his glasses for Newton’s sake; glasses that looked identical to the ones Patton used to wear... that Roman used to borrow just for fun… that Virgil almost broke… that Remus actually broke… that Janus stole to impersonate…

Logan knew he wasn’t cut out for these…  _ emotions. _

He felt disgusting as he buried his head in his wet pillow, only dampening it even further, body splayed down on his mess of a bed, with his heart-wrenching wails, screams, and sobs reverberating through his room, out his still open door, and through the rest of the scape.

He used to hold so much remorse over the loud banter that constantly filled Thomas’s head; distracting him from his work almost every time. Now, he’d give anything to hear just another voice, another joke, another nickname, another intrusive thought, another lie, another overreaction, another laugh, or even another cry.

He saw them in every single thing Thomas did nowadays. He saw Remus and Roman in his silly little vines. Logan liked to think the two finally agreed on a sufficient balance regarding their sway on Thomas’s creative liberties. He saw Janus and Virgil on those days Thomas “excused” himself out of social gatherings. The two always seemed to go hand-in-hand during social conundrums. He saw Patton in even the tiniest shift in Thomas’s feelings. Hell, he even saw himself in there even when Logan wasn’t doing any work.

_ I’m losing more and more of my influence on Thomas each day,  _ he realized.

What he would give to no longer hear his voice echoing back at him whenever he yelled his larynx dry, and to instead have someone,  _ anyone,  _ come running to him and tell him  _ it’s alright, it’s not real, we’re still here, you’re not alone.  _ Unfortunately, he was Logic, and no matter what he wanted himself to believe,  _ this is real, and he is alone. _

Around the third week, Logan wasn’t even afraid anymore. He was  _ ecstatic.  _ Laying on his bed, he looked at his shaking hands, felt his pale, sunken face, tested his burning lungs, and coughed out the itch in his throat; and yet he  _ smiled.  _ He had completely no bearing on Thomas anymore. He was, at this point, not living any longer, only existing; existing but not quite. Logan was just… there. He had no more purpose, he had no one, he had nothing, only  _ life;  _ weak, fading, miserable, but  _ still alive. _

When he heard that the doctor had Thomas stop taking the pills, Logan  _ lost it. _

He was too weak to do any significant damage to his tiny space of a room, but he had just enough strength to scream his lungs out, tear at his clothes, claw at his skin, and milk out every fluid left in his eyes. He lashed at his pillow, sobbed into his sheets, and winced at the throbbing pain he incurred from his efforts.

If Roman was right, and there really was a place where all five of them stood looking at him right now, Logan wondered what they must think of his pathetic state.

He waited, and waited, and  _ waited.  _ He didn’t really have it in him to care anymore but months have probably passed, and Logan thought he was losing more and more of his sanity by the hour. He wondered how Remus could’ve  _ possibly  _ put up with all these nasty intrusive thoughts circling around the duke’s mind; same as the ones Logic kept having for  _ months  _ now.

He thought if he maybe tightened his necktie just enough, he’d suffocate himself out of existence, or if he could bear to stick that cutter straight through his heart. If he could just make enough blood come out of him, he might finally succumb to fading through severe blood loss. But he knew none of those would work. Nothing would make him die. Only the pills can. And believe Logan, he’s tried too many times to still hold onto even a single train of thought in Thomas’s now independent mind just to tell him to drink just  _ one more pill Thomas,  _ **_please._ **

It never worked.

For five whole months Logan Sanders stayed alive, even when he wished to be nothing but that.

Imagine his surprise when nearing the sixth-month mark, he felt that once familiar but now all too foreign pull. His mind was rusty, he was in great doubt, he could barely even move, but he knew enough to figure out what that sensation was.

He ran his hands weakly through his hair, he shakily adjusted his tie, grabbed his dusty glasses that had sat so long unused on his bedside table, and almost gagged when the world turned into a cloud of swirls that slowly morphed into Thomas’s living room.

In his state, he didn’t even last a single second upright. He was on the ground in an instant.

“L…Logan?” Sweet  _ fuck  _ it felt so heavenly to hear another voice, even if it was laced with so much uncertainty.

“Salu… Salutations… Thomas.” His elbows were trembling as he struggled to keep himself at least half-seated on the ground. Speaking felt like an entirely different language.

“Logan,  _ oh my god _ , you look terrible, what-“

“This is… nothing to be concerned about, Thomas--“

“Where are the others? I can’t summon them.”

Logan’s fatigued arms almost gave way, but he was still Logic after all, albeit an obsolete one. He was there to provide factual statements, however obsolete.

“The others are… no longer present.” He didn’t even bother wiping away his tears anymore. He bowed his head and allowed his unkempt hair to fall on his face, as if it could hide all the anguish he felt.

“What do you mean?” Logan struggled to lift up his head to see Thomas’s questioning, worrying stare, and he practically saw the life leave the host’s eyes when his own red, pooling eyes met Thomas’s.

“I’m sorry, Thomas. They’re  _ gone.  _ They have been for half a year now.” Logan sputtered, coughed, and gasped for air. Conversing while high in painful emotions felt like such a chore. “I’m the only one left.”

Thomas’s eyes quickly shifted towards the bottle of pills that were now on the shelf, dusty from being untouched in months.

“Is it because of…”

“Yes, it is.” Logan’s hands balled into a fist on the ground and his face scrunched up in anger, but the lack of energy made his steaming expression less obvious. “Tell me, Thomas. What exactly  _ did  _ you think those pills would do? Did you assume the medication would simply lock us in your mind?”

“Logan, I thought… I didn’t think it would…” Thomas audibly gulped, but it did nothing to stop his knees from weakening, bringing him almost to Logan’s level, with his eyes beginning to well up with tears.

“I didn’t know. I was… so convinced that you weren’t real. Everyone was saying I was out of my mind and Dr. Wring, he… my friends they… my family--“ tremors travelled through Thomas and he tried to control even just a bit of his gasping breaths.

“He asked me to stop taking, but after a few months I… decided to try and summon you ‘cause I just wanted to make sure you were actually… that you were actually just hallucinations. _Gosh,_ _I’m_ _so, so sorry, Logan._ ”

He was sobbing now, and the anger that occupied the logical facet’s features smoothed into one that spoke volumes and volumes of suffering, sorrow, and longing.

“I watched every single one of them fade, Thomas. Each one hurt more than the last. I was still alive when you stopped,“ he paused to draw in a large bulk of air, “but there’s just no logical sense in existing when there’s zero reasons for me to.”

It was quite a scene, honestly. Logan looked so small, so breakable in front of Thomas, but for a good stretch of time they both just let go; until Logan’s elbows finally gave way and Thomas attempted to catch his head before it hit the tile. It never really worked that way ever since, had it? The host ached to soothe his only remaining facet, but the mocking invisible barrier between them that always stood strong made it impossible.

“Thomas?”

“Yeah, Lo?”

“Take the pill.” Thomas’s eyes widened and his mouth went ajar as he stared at his logical side’s sorry form.

“No, Logan, there  _ has  _ to be a way for me to bring all of you back,  _ please- _ “

“I’m sorry, Thomas. There isn’t.” Thomas’s breath hitched as his eyes scanned the teacher’s struggling form and read the toil trapped in his eyes; pleading for him to do this one last favor.

He reluctantly stood up, walked towards the shelf, picked up the bottle, blew the dust off, kneeled down once again next to Logan, and popped open the lid.

“I’ll miss all of you. I’ll miss you, Logan.” Tears resembled waterfalls pouring down the host’s cheeks, and Logan’s features almost mirrored the other’s.

“And I, you.”

Thomas fished out a single tablet, and unsteadily brought it to his lips.

“I’m sorry.” He took it, and swallowed.

Logan’s back arched and his tonsils seared as pain flared throughout his whole body, yet through the immense burning he felt inside of him, he forced out one last smile and looked Thomas directly in the eyes.

“Thank you.”

For a few seconds, the logical side forgot all of the suffering, the silence, the tears, the screams, and the heartbreaks. Logan finally felt peace.

Thomas watched Logan’s form flicker, then continuously fade in and out of existence; his entire being turning transparent molecule by molecule, atom by atom, until he was gone.

Thomas didn’t know how long he stayed there, kneeling and pouring out the contents of his eyes and heart, staring at a single spot.

~~~

He never really forgot about them. It had been two years now ever since he last saw his sides; since he last saw Logan, fading out of existence, in front of his very ey-

_ Stop it, Thomas. That’s all behind you. _

What was he talking about? The last two years were an absolute  _ trip _ ! He got awarded as “Viner of the Year” simply for doing something he actually enjoyed, then eventually weaved a career in YouTube. With a steady increase in his subscribers and the number of views in his video, things were looking up for Thomas.

But  _ damn,  _ if he didn’t miss them.

Often he’d lay alone in his home, hoping he could still summon them. Sometimes he’d still hear Virgil’s grumbling when he went out with friends, Remus’s voice in the middle of the night, Roman’s sudden surge of ideas while in the shower for some reason, Patton’s little noise of excitement when Thomas did a good deed, Janus’s lies during compromising situations, and even Logan’s voice scolding him to try a decent, healthy meal.

He’d dare say he was feeling guilt too, but he tried not to think about it a whole lot. There were other, more significant matters to ponder on.

Speaking of which, Thomas still didn’t have an idea for a video. He decided to have a little drive around town with his windows down just to get his mind going. Besides, it’d been a while since he last got a whiff of fresh air. He passed by people walking dogs, children in strollers, parks, trees, fast food chains (note to self: grab some fries on the way home), a barbershop, a store displaying a black jacket, a—

_ Wait. _

Thomas drove backwards a little bit until his car was parked directly in front of the store. From his seat, he stared at that black, checkered jacket that was thrown a bit carelessly over a hanger. He knew Virgil’s hoodie was far from it; purple and black checkers with stitching patterns, their clothes were still burned at the back of his mind clear as day. But he couldn’t help but make the mental connection either way.

Oh. Maybe he did have an idea for a video now.

An entire day of roaming around surplus and dollar stores, boutiques, and rummaging for items of clothing around his home later, and Thomas had everything he needed. A black, checkered jacket for Anxiety, a sky blue polo and a gray cardigan for Morality, prince and duke attires for the Creativities, a little capelet, a hat, and gloves for Deceit, and a black polo and a blue tie for Logan. He didn’t get any of their wardrobe choices  _ exactly  _ right, but he felt it was a pretty spot-on representation of them.

He was the cause of their fading in the first place, anyway. The least he could do was honor them in a video.

The next day, he filmed. He grabbed a pair of Warby Parkers, put on the light blue polo that used to belong to his dad, and tied the cardigan around his shoulders. It wasn’t the exact shade of blue he wanted, it was a different looking cardigan, and he was missing a pretty distinct emblem, but it felt like Patton nonetheless. He faced the mirror, mustered the toothiest, brightest grin he could, and thought he’d almost cry from the surge of memories that ransacked his mind.

He could do this.

_ Actually you know what? I can’t. _

He removed the attire again and got back into his Character Thomas get-up. Maybe doing all of Thomas’s lines first would help calm his nerves. He set up his cameras, adjusted the lights, powdered himself up, combed his hair, pressed record, and did his signature opening phrase.

“What is up, everybody!”

He was going with a last-minute script here. He wasn’t even sure if he was really doing this for the channel or for  _ himself.  _ He just continued talking to the camera, pausing whenever he felt like he made a mistake, redid takes he thought he could do better, and improvised lines on the spot.

“I thought you guys might like to know a little more about myself! And I say, there’d be no better way to do that than to introduce you to the facets of my personality. Morality!”

He looked to his blinds and did a little gesture with his hands like he always did when he used to summon them. He hadn’t done that in years now. He cut that take, and was about to proceed with the next of Thomas’s lines, the ones that came after Morality’s opening statements, when—

“Oh hey there kiddo! What ya up to? I almost didn’t recognize the living room with all the lights and cameras around.”

Thomas froze. He couldn’t believe what- _ who _ he was staring at. He needed to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, that this was actually Patton, he was there, he was real, and  _ oh goodness what if I’m actually  _ **_delirious_ ** _ this time— _

“Salutations Thomas, you really must inform us if you ever have plans on shooting a video next time.”

Thomas whipped his head in the other direction and tried his hardest not to break down at the sight in front of him. Images of the last time he saw Logan flooded his head and clogged up his lungs.

“Aw, you don’t look so swell, Thomathy. Are you doing okay?”

He was aware that he was simply standing there, frozen, with not a single word coming out of his mouth. His eyes flitted back to Logan who held his gaze and put a finger up to his lips in a silencing gesture. The logical facet mouthed the word “later” to the host and spoke for him.

“Uhm, Patton, I think Thomas needs all of us for this particular video. Why don’t you summon the others, hmm?”

“Oh! Sure thing, Logan! Come on up here, everyone!”

After Patton called for them, Remus came up first, pulling Roman by his collar.

“Ow! Remus, I told you to be careful with my clothes! It’s not easy making it out to be as smooth and white as it is, you know?”

“You and your vanity routines. You were taking forever with that fucking hair of yours.”

Janus popped up next beside Logan, who had already moved a little bit to his left to give the reptilian side some space to stand in.

“When will you two ever stop bickering? I swear, one more word out of your mouths and your hands are  _ ssstaying  _ over your lips.” Janus moved to pull down his gloves while Roman smoothed out his clothes.

Virgil popped up shortly after Janus, arms shoved in his fully-zipped jacket.

“Did we really have to start this early? It’s literally only 9 am.”

“ _ Only??” _

All six sides had somehow gotten locked into a light conversation regarding what hour was considered early and late. Thomas would’ve gotten a lot of input in if his entire face wasn’t locked right now in an expression of disbelief, shock, pain, and glee. He glanced at Logan who subtly waved his arms, signalling for Thomas to continue the video. The host trusted his logical side enough to put the obvious issue off ‘till later. He loudly clapped once, then relayed the make-do script to them.

The whole day felt so… normal. Everyone acted the same as they did years ago and every word, laugh, joke, yell, snort, wheeze, lie, eye roll, was a treat to his eyes and music to his ears. It was almost as if nothing ever happened; as if Thomas had never taken those pills.

It was past 9 pm when they finished filming for a ten-minute vid. Let’s just say there were a lot of distractions (and no, Thomas almost crying  _ definitely  _ wasn’t one of them). They all said their goodbyes to Thomas and sunk out one by one. Logan stayed behind. With everyone gone, Thomas allowed the gigantic ball of emotions that were stuck in his chest free, giving in to the few tears that fell from his face. Logan didn’t mention a thing and waited patiently for the host himself to finally take a deep breath and address the matters at hand.

“Do the others remember?” Logan looked Thomas directly in the eye and lightly shook his head.

“No, they do not have any recollection of the… previous events.” 

A shuddering breath escaped Thomas’s lips, and he took a few seconds to compose himself before speaking again. “Do you?” 

Something indescribable glazed over Logan’s eyes, and if you looked closely, you’d see the trembling of his hands as he wrung them together, and hear the slight wobble in his voice as he replied. “Every second of it.” 

Thomas looked down for a few moments and wiped the few wet streaks that appeared on his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, Logan. I really am--” Logan quickly shushed Thomas, like a parent soothing a crying child.

“You have no reason to apologize, Thomas. Whatever you did, you did for your own sake. It’s all behind us now. What matters is that we’re here, and  _ you’re  _ here.”

Thomas still continued to cry. Logan had already seen him in this state once, 2 years ago. It wouldn’t make much of a difference to see him in such a messy state again now, would it? Thomas soon broke into a goofy, melancholic smile from the ridiculousness of it all, then went silent for almost a full 5 seconds, according to Logan’s calculations.

“Do you have any idea why?”

Logan shrugged his shoulders barely. “Not a clue.”

Thomas laughed. It was a messy, desperate laugh that only brought on more tears, and the two found it as quite a surprise when Logan joined in on the laughter too. He’d deny it, but Thomas swore he saw a tear or two fall from behind the others’ lenses.

“You should do that more often, Logan.”

“Dying or being clueless?” Thomas smiled yet again, feeling a tad bit lighter now, and shook his head fondly at his logical side.

“Laughing.” Logan paused at that statement, and despite trying not to, his lips still curled upward into the tiniest hint of a smile. Both didn’t care to check how long they stood merely glancing at each other, but eventually Thomas sniffled, seemingly through with his emotional daze, and talked.

“I missed you guys.”

Softness grew on Logan’s features, and the smile grew wider.

“And I, you.”

For a while they merely stood there, appreciating the simple fact that  _ they were here, and they were okay. _

“I think I might have to excuse myself now, Thomas. I have a bit of  _ ‘catching up’  _ to do with the others.”

“See you, Logan.”

Logic gave Thomas a little nod, and sank out. In the mindscape, Roman and Patton had initiated a little movie night, much to Janus’s despise. Apparently he had plans to sleep earlier than usual that time, but the prince was certainly adamant on having this little event.

“Are you joining us, Lo?”

All five of them had already taken their preferred seats on, around, and even over the couch, and he noticed Patton leaving him a little spot right at the center, just next to Virgil at the other end. Remus was lying across the sofa’s head, however that worked. He mentally prepared himself for the vivid imagery that came with being positioned in such close proximity to the duke. Janus sat on the sofa’s arm, but he still eventually joined Roman on the floor later on.

As he took his designated spot, Logan tried not to think of the last time he remembered being next to the moral side on a couch, or the last time he saw Virgil leaning on its arm, and gave his reply without any second thinking.

“I would love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're all doing okay! Every little support and kudos is eternally appreciated. Follow me on Tumblr [@nerdy-emo-royal-dad](https://nerdy-emo-royal-dad.tumblr.com/)!. Stay safe, fams! <3


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